


Heaven Is A Place on Earth With You

by Order_Of_The_Forks



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Angst, Emotions, Explicit Language, F/F, Galaxy Gals, M/M, Teen Angst, Tree Bros, random lana del rey song bc I feel like it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-07 09:24:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12230082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Order_Of_The_Forks/pseuds/Order_Of_The_Forks
Summary: The only thing Connor regretted was the fact that the last thing he would see before he plummeted to his death was that ugly yellow house.





	1. Chapter 1

The only thing Connor regretted was the fact that the last thing he would see before he plummeted to his death was that ugly yellow house.

Whoever decided to build a house on Suicide Canal must've been out of their fucking mind.

Granted, when the house was built- about a hundred years earlier, by the looks of the dilapidated shack- it probably wasn't Suicide Canal. The stupid bridge wasn't Bell Jar Bridge, the stupid blue flowers weren't been Lover’s Last Looks yet.

Fuck that.

Connor hated the fucking yellow house. He had always wanted to live in a yellow house, back when he was little and innocent and actually fucking thought he would make it past senior year.

This house, however, was hideous. It wasn't a fun, cheery yellow. That would actually be normal and sort of pleasant. No, it had to be the grossest shade of yellow known to man. 

It was like the owners of the house had gone to the paint store and said “hey, we want to make everyone who sees this house fucking miserable.”

And it worked.

Everyone who did see the house was miserable, not because of the house, but because it was situated in such a spot that the only people who would ever see it would be people who wouldn't live to see the sun rise in the morning. 

Connor stepped closer to the edge of the bridge. The old gray flagstones were slick with moss, and he had to grip onto the rough wooden railing. 

Connor knew exactly what would happen once he made the jump. He had studied up intently, not even bothering to clear his search history. It was a possibility that he would survive. After all, there was that guy who jumped off the Golden Gate Bridge and survived. Connor recounted the gory details in his head. Let's see… he would most likely die of blunt-force trauma. All of his ribs would break, and his internal organs would tear off from their connections, probably getting impaled on his already broken ribs. Drowning was a definite possibility, too. 

Connor looked down at the black water beneath the bridge, his gut churning along with the waves. He had been planning this for months, why couldn't he bring himself to do it now?

Connor took another step closer to the edge. 

The Lover’s Last Looks had started to grow up the sides of the bridge. It was a stupid name. There was nothing worse than romanticizing offing yourself. “Lover’s Last Look” was just so sickening. Bell Jar Bridge wasn't much better either, but at least Suicide Canal was blunt. Nobody questioned Suicide Canal. It had always been there and always would. 

Connor swung his legs over the railing like he had so many times before, letting his feet dangle over the water. Connor’s grip on the wooden rail tightened, the splinters in his palm stinging. 

Connor heard a noise behind him.

“W-who’s there?” A voice called out.

Connor didn't respond. If he just jumped off now, he wouldn't have to interact with whoever the fuck was behind him.

The voice coughed. “E-excuse m-me?”

Connor loosened his grip on the railing and shifted his weight forward, preparing himself for the plunge into the deep. He put his feet down on the small ledge that jutted out before dropping off and stood up, swaying forward and back. Stay, go. Stay, go.

“NO!” 

An arm hooked around his torso from behind, pulling him over the railing harshly. Connor felt his breath leave him as his head and shoulders collided with the hard flagstones and crumpled to the ground. 

Whoever had done it bent down and checked for a pulse. Connor was too shocked to bat their hand away as it fumbled to find his pulse point on his neck.

Connor started coughing. “I'm alive, you fucking douchebag!”

The person stumbled back. “O-oh thank god, I th-thought I-I had hurt you-”

“Yeah, thanks.” Connor said, his voice dripping with anger and sarcasm. “I really appreciate it.”

Connor rolled over and struggled to sit up, only to look into a pair of familiar eyes. “Eddie?”

The boy blushed and looked down at his hands. “I-it's Evan.”

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I-I was just o-on a hike.”

Connor scowled. “Bullshit. Nobody fucking goes on a nature walk to Suicide Canal. Be a big boy and tell me why you’re really here, dipshit.”

“Iwasheretokillmyself!” He blurted, then slapped a hand over his mouth in horror.

“Gee, well that makes two of us. Mind telling me why you didn't just let me die?”

“I-I didn't want you t-to.” Evan fidgeted with the hem of his shirt.

“Why the fuck not?” Connor yelled. “We’re both going to meet the same depressing end at the bottom of this fucking canal. Does it really matter who fucking does it first?”

“I-I just didn't-”

“You didn't want me to what?” Connor stood up and moved back towards the edge. “You didn't want me to quit making myself miserable and do the one thing that makes sense?”

“T-There are people that care about you! I'm sure Zoe and your p-parents care if you live or die!”

“No, they fucking don't!” Connor grit his teeth. “Maybe before you make assumptions about people’s home lives actually let them do what they think is right!”

“I-I’m sorry.” Evan took a step back, fear evident in his eyes.

“You fucking should be.”

“I would care if-if you died, Connor.” Evan looked like a deer in the headlights when Connor fixed his steely glare on the small boy. “I don't think you should do this.”

“Why not?” He growled.

“I-I’ve seen you tap dance in the cafeteria after school when everyone’s gone-” Evan bit his lip, “-and you're really good. And you’re smart, even though you get b-bad grades because you c-cut class and smoke drugs. A-and you’re a really good artist! I’ve seen you draw in y-your bio textbook because I sit behind you, even though you shouldn't do that because it's sch-school property, but you draw really good. So I don't think you should… y-you know.”

Connor ran a hand through his hair. “Great job. You fucking convinced me, Ed-Evan. Go home and pat yourself on the back. You saved the crazy kid from committing suicide.”

Evan stayed rooted in his spot. “What are you doing? Leave. You did what you were here to do.”

“I-I’m not leaving.”

“Oh, no!” Connor thrust a finger in Evan’s face. “You're not talking me down from the edge of a bridge just to do what I wanted to.”

“I-”

Connor grabbed Evan’s wrist and started walked off of the bridge, onto the long, winding forest pathway that leads to so many people’s final destination. “Nuh-uh. You’re going the fuck home.”

“I can't g-get home.” 

Connor stopped. “Why the hell not?”

“I-I took a bus here, a-and I don't have any more money to g-go back.”

Connor shrugged and started walking again, his fingers still tight around Evan’s wrist, reveling in the smooth skin just above his palm. He wished his arms still felt like that. “I can drive you.”

“I-I wouldn't make you do that.”

Connor let out a sharp, barking laugh. “It's not a big deal. Honestly. The least I can do now that you ruined my Saturday night plans.”

Evan blanched. 

Connor dropped Evan’s hand once he got to his car. “Get in.”

Evan nodded nervously and climbed into the passenger seat. Connor got in the car and shoved the keys in the ignition.

The car started with a groan, and Connor gunned the engine as soon as he could, tearing out of the godforsaken forest as fast as possible.

Evan was as pale as a ghost, gripping the sides of his seat. Connor drove carelessly, savoring the rush of ecstasy as he turned corners smoothly and glided down empty roads.

“D-do you n-normally drive like th-this?” Evan stammered.

“Hell yeah!” Connor whooped in glee, pressing the pedal harder.

“T-there are probably p-police out.”

“I don't care about cops, man.” Connor rolled his eyes. “Fuck the police!”

“Y-you shouldn't say that, Connor.” Evan kept his eyes trained on the road, his knuckles white. “It's a hard job and-and they're trying their best.”

“Aren’t we all, buddy.” Connor shook his head. “Aren’t we fucking all.”

They sat in silence for a while longer until Connor spoke up. “Where the hell is your house?”

Evan blushed. “43 P-Pine Crest Road.”

“Shit, that’s like, on the other side of town. You couldn't have told me sooner?”

“S-sorry!” Evan stammered. “I forgot!”

“Alright…” Connor muttered, slamming on the brake and pulling a 180, tires squealing. “Let's go alllllll the way back to the Cedar Grove Housing District. That won't take a long time at all.”

“I'm s-sorry!”

“Shut up with the ‘sorry’ shit. I may seem like I'm angry, but I'm-” Connor grit his teeth, “-not.”

“O-oh. Sorry. Sorry, sorry, that's what you asked me not to do! Augh! Sorry for saying sorry!”

“You Canadian or something?” Connor asked, a small smirk playing on his lips.

“N-no, none of my f-family is from C-Canada. I don't know where they're from.”

Connor grimaced. “Does nobody ever joke around you, or do you live under a rock?”

“N-no, I live in the Cedar Grove Housing Development, like I said.”

Connor chuckled softly. “My point still stands.”

Evan was silent after that and remained quiet until Connor pulled his junked-up car into the the cul-de-sac that was Cedar Grove. Connor hadn't been there very often, as it was a less wealthy neighborhood, not to mention on the other side of town from where he lived on Greenway Avenue. 

It was a quiet place with modest, pastel-colored houses and a small patch of forest in the center of the circular road. Connor had to go around the circle a few times before finally spotting the small road jutting off between two houses, minuscule and unnoticeable enough it looked like a driveway. But there was the street sign, clear as day: Pine Crest Road.

Connor coasted down the tiny street, squinting to see the numbers on the houses. At the very end of the road Evan pointed out the car window and yelled “There!”.

The house in mention was a small Cape Cod style house with peeling yellow paint, a stark opposite from the Murphy’s own towering McMansion. There were trees and plants scattered eclectically around the yard and a white wicker rocking chair on the porch. Evan unbuckled his seatbelt and put a hand on the car door.

“T-thanks. For… you know. Thank you.”

Connor looked the other way, trying to ignore the stirring in his gut. “Yeah. Sure.”

“Have a nice night, Connor.” Evan pushed open the door and stepped out of the car but stopped before leaving Connor to indulge in blessed loneliness. “Stay safe.”

“Mhm.” As soon as Evan shut the door, Connor tore away from the curb, not even bothering to wait and see if he got into the house like his mom always told him to. So what if Evan had to sleep on the lawn? It's not like he cared.

‘You care.’ A voice inside Connor taunted. ‘You care a fuck ton about this this kid and you don't even know him. What is it about him, Murphy? His blue polo shirt? His anxious demeanor? The way his hair falls perfectly and his blue eyes sparkle in the moonlight?’

“Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!” Connor screamed at nobody. The car was still and quiet, just like it always was. “Maybe you should've just jumped. Crazy people jump. Example of being a crazy person: talking to yourself right now.”

Connor swerved his car to avoid a squirrel in the road before slamming the brakes and resting his head against the steering wheel. He had been prepared to die tonight and now he was here, trying not to hit a squirrel on Witchtrot Road. All according to plan.

Connor’s stomach twisted at the thought of going downstairs and eating breakfast the next morning with his family knowing full well that he had tried to end his life the night before. Would it continue on like normal, or would they innately know? 

Connor started the car again and drove home. The trees blurred past his windows and the houses became newer, cleaner, and larger as he drove. The Murphy’s house, a large McMansion with fucking pillars on the front, seemed to dwarf everything around it. The red Colonial Revival next to it seemed at small as Evan’s house, even though it was most likely at least five times the size.

Connor took a deep breath and drove up behind Zoe’s yellow VW Bug. He knew that it was three in the morning and nobody would be awake, but his heart was pounding nonetheless. Which was weird.

He had snuck out hundreds of times before, why was this any different? If Larry had caught him sneaking in, he would just think he went and did some drugs and send him up to his room to ‘talk about it later’. Which was bullshit, because Larry didn't ‘talk about it later’. He just yelled.

Connor got out of his car and came in through the backdoor, using the sneaking-in strategy he had perfected in eighth grade. Up the office stairs, hug the wall by Zoe's room, disappear into his own bedroom and hide there until morning.

Connor crawled under the covers without taking off his shoes or his jacket. He just laid there in the dark, thinking. Thinking about the events of the night went down. Thinking about Evan Hansen, who he had talked to maybe once before. 

Thinking about how the boy at the bridge had, for better or for worse, saved his life.

 

~

 

Connor didn't go to school the next day. Or the next. Or the next.

What he did was feign sickness the first day, drive to the neighboring town of Sanbornville to visit their library the next, then pretend to go to school but hide in the woods behind the school for the entire time. 

On Thursday, his mother made him go.

“Connor, honey,” she said over her vegan omelette (an oxymoron), “I know you haven't been going to school.”

Connor didn't respond, just stirred his already soggy cereal around in the milk. 

“I'm willing to believe you were sick on Monday, but the school called me yesterday and told me you didn't show up on Wednesday.” Cynthia frowned. “Your education is important, honey.”

“Sure.”

“Will you go? The week’s almost over, you just need to hang in there for two more days and then it’s the weekend. That doesn't sound too bad, right?”

Connor stood up and dumped the remains of his cereal down the sink. “I'm not fucking five anymore, mom.”

“I know.” Cynthia ran a finger around the rim of her coffee cup. “Do you promise to go today?”

Connor sighed. “Fine.”

Cynthia stood up and put a hand on her son’s shoulder. “Thank you, sweetie.” Connor shrugged her hand off and walked away.

Zoe was dancing in her bedroom when Connor walked in, blatantly ignoring the hand-drawn “please knock!” sign she had had on her door since forever. Zoe quickly turned off the music, some upbeat pop song that made Connor’s skin crawl. 

“What are you doing in here?” Zoe blurted defensively.

Connor tossed his keys in the air and caught them effortlessly. “Need a ride to school?”

Zoe eyed him suspiciously. “You never offer to drive me to school.”

Connor rolled his eyes. “Well, now I am. Take it or leave it.”

“I… I think I'll be fine. I have jazz band after school, anyway.” Zoe paused, her hand on her backpack. “Why did you leave a bunch of jewelry on my pillow the other night?”

Connor’s face fell. “You didn't recognize it.”

“No, of course I recognized it.” Zoe reached up to touch a delicate glass rose hanging from her necklace. “It was all the jewelry you've stolen from me over the years. What I'm asking is why you gave it back.”

“It doesn't matter.” Connor turned away from his sister, a lump forming in his throat. “You wouldn't understand.”

 

~

 

Connor went back to the bridge that night. 

It wasn't anything to do with school, or the fact that his dad was nagging him about his hair again. 

He just wanted to finish was he started.

As he dangled over the bridge the first night, he had remembered everything he had ever done to his sister. The list went on and on, and the thought made Connor feel sick. Did he really want to go with so much unfinished business? Sure, his parents could go fuck themselves, but his sister didn't deserve this. She didn't deserve any of this.

Connor had torn his room apart looking for anything he had taken from Zoe. Seven books, two rings, a necklace, two bracelets, and three bottles of black nail polish (one sparkly). He had left them all on her pillow, no note. 

Now that he had officially reconciled with his sister, the drive to the bridge didn't feel quite as long.

The same houses and trees whipped past the windows as Connor drove up into the pathway leading to Suicide Canal. The roadblock put up years prior to ward off stray psychos had been smashed long ago. Connor parked the car in a small clearing and took a few deep breaths. This would be the night. No unfinished business, no bullies left to punch.

Connor reflected back on the bucket list he had made in seventh grade. What was it? Smoke weed. Check. Pull the fire alarm during school. More than enough times. Kiss someone? Unfortunately. Have sex with someone? Uh… no.

Connor shrugged. What did he care? He was going to die in less than half an hour. So what if he died a virgin?

Connor almost laughed at how pathetic that sounded. “I'm going to die a virgin!” He yelled at the windshield, a smile cracking on his face. “I have never had a dick in my ass and I am fine with that!” A torrent of wild giggles overtook him. Connor knew how ridiculous he looked, laughing maniacally alone in a car at 7:00 on a Thursday night. He hoped there weren't any impressionable children walking past.

Finally, the stream off laughter subsided and Connor got out of the car, not even bothering to lock the door. He didn't really have anything valuable in there, anyway. Connor savored the scent of the trees and flowers as he walked towards the bridge, knowing full well this might be the last time he smelled those stupid Lover’s Last Looks ever again. 

The bridge looked exactly the same as it had on Monday night, still and picturesque and deathly quiet. It had rained, and the ground was soft and pliable underneath his feet. Connor’s interest piqued as he spotted a path of footprints leading down the side of the bridge out to where a small patch of mud and flowers formed a tiny beach next to the canal. Connor walked up the bridge and looked down to see a figure standing amongst the flowers, watching the sun set over the water.

Connor frowned. Who was this asshole who had to ruin his suicide for the second time? Was it so bad that this bridge idea had failed once before, did they really have to ruin it again?

“Hey, the view’s nicer from up here!” Connor yelled over the railing down at the figure. The person jumped, and as they started to turn towards Connor, slipped in the mud and fell into the water. “Shit!” Connor muttered, scrambling down the steep bank towards the person who was floundering in the shallow water.

Connor’s boots stuck to the mud like he was walking through glue. Mentally saying ‘fuck it’, he waded into the water, grabbing the person’s hand with much difficulty and pulling them out of the water. As soon as they were on the ground, they immediately started coughing and hacking, doubled over in the mud-splattered flowers. 

“Can you not swim or something?” Connor asked, still standing in the water. “This barely goes up to my knees.” 

The person turned to Connor with wide, scared eyes he had definitely seen before. 

“Connor?”

Of course. It was fucking Evan. “Speaking of which, how do you fucking know my name? I never got to ask you.”

Evan wiped his hands on his pants, which was ridiculous considering both his hands and his pants were soaked. “I-I know your sister?”

“Bullshit. Zoe talks about all of her friends way too much, and I’ve never heard her say your name before.”

Evan blanched. “W-we’re… acquaintances?”

Connor rolled his eyes. “That Beck chick’s her acquaintance and they make out in her room on Saturdays. Stop fucking lying.”

Evan looked terrified of Connor, which made his stomach twist. “I d-don’t know her very w-well? B-but I go to the jazz band concerts because I like jazz, well not all jazz, but definitely jazz band jazz? That’s stupid, s-sorry.”

Connor made an indignant noise. “As long you’re not some creep.”

Evan held up his hands me in a ‘please don’t hurt me’ gesture. “N-no, I p-promise!”

Connor stepped out of the water and grimaced at the sogginess in his shoes. With one look back to where Evan was standing, he turned and walked back up towards the bridge. 

Connor didn’t even notice he was followed until he heard soft footsteps behind him on the flagstones. He whipped around to face Evan, who jumped at the sudden movement. “What are you doing?’ Connor snarled. “It wasn’t enough to fuck with me once, you’ve got to do it again?”

“I’m not going t-to let you d-die.” Evan said with remarkable resolve. “Y-you’ve saved my life twice now.”

Connor scoffed. “Please. It’s not like you would’ve drowned in the equivalent of an inflatable kiddie pool.”

Evan tugged at the hem of his shirt. “I don’t know how to swim.”

Connor laughed sardonically. “That really is pathetic.” He walked up to the wooden railing, and after a moment’s hesitation, swung himself over so that he was seated comfortably on the rail, feet dangling over the black water. “Drowning in corpse water a foot deep.”

“T-That’s what would happen if you j-jumped.”

“Gonna call bullshit on you there. You’d most likely die from blunt-force trauma and-or organ failure. Nice try, though.” Connor patted the railing next to him. “Sit.”

Evan hesitated, eyes flitting from the railing to Connor’s demoralized expression. Carefully, he climbed onto the railing next to Connor. 

Connor swung his feet over the water like a child would, eyes trained on the black water below. “I came here three times before,” he said finally. “Before that night. Just to… you know, scope it out.”

“Oh.” Evan’s fingers twitched against the wood. “I-I didn’t.”

“Hmm.” 

The two sat in silence for a while, watching the sun set over the water. Connor knuckles were white on the railing in fear that if he loosened his grip, he would go tumbling into the dark abyss and ruin the one decent interaction with another human he had had in years. 

“H-have you ever been in that house?” Evan broke the silence so suddenly that Connor almost fell off the bridge right then and there.

“Uh… no.” Connor said. “I don't think anybody’s living in it anymore, though.”

“Who would want to live h-here?” Evan chuckled softly. “Next to th-the, what did you call it? C-corpse water?”

Connor attempted a laugh. “In fifth grade I had to do a report on this house. In, like, the 1900s this couple, the Gillans, lived in it. When the Great Depression hit, Mr. Gillan jumped off of this bridge. Mrs. Gillan killed herself out of grief not long after.”

Evan bit his lip. “I guess it’s always had a g-gory past.”

Connor shrugged. “I guess,” he said. “But it's not like it matters for anything more than fifth grade town history projects.”

“I-I remember that p-project!” Evan blurted. “I did a project on the t-town forest.”

“Lame.” Connor snorted.

“I-it was interesting! I l-learned a lot.”

Connor rolled his eyes. “The Secret Life of Trees by Evan Monk Kidd. A bestseller.”

Evan looked up at Connor with those eyes that looked so much like a kicked puppy and goddamn why did he have to be a dog person? “You read that book too?”

“I mean, the one about bees.” Connor shrugged. “We had to read it freshman year for AP English.”

“O-oh. I never took any accelerated c-classes.” Evan looked down at the water. “I would always get too anxious and then I would have to leave the room and I would miss entire l-lessons.”

“Sucks.” Connor said. 

“I get fucking awful grades in everything except English. My parents hate it because what use is a gay, loser son if he can't even become a software engineer?” 

“Y-you're gay?” Evan asked.

Connor’s skin crawled. This kid was prying a bit too deep. Sure, he had mentioned it, but Evan took it a step too far. “Yeah.” Connor shrugged, pushing his annoyance away. “What about you? You bat for the other team too?”

“I-I don't play baseball?” Connor resisted the urge to laugh. “B-But I think I-I'm straight.”

“Ah. Cool.” Connor said, pretending not to care but caring a lot.

Evan nodded halfheartedly and the two sat in silence once more.

Connor wished his brain would just fucking calm down and enjoy the nature and the nice person sitting next to him without going fucking psycho. Honestly, it was kind of draining. All he wanted was to kill himself but here he was, having a civil conversation with some random kid from school, which he hadn’t done in however the fuck long ago it was. 

Evan’s phone started buzzing and glowing and started playing some Lana Del Rey song about love or some shit. He frantically pulled the outdated off-brand smartphone out of his pocket, nearly dropping it into the water. He answered the call hastily.

“H-hey, mom.”

Mumbled word from the other side. 

“No, I don’t know what t-time it is.” He turned to Connor with a dejected look. “What time is it?” Connor shrugged.

“I-I’m with a, a f-friend from school.” Evan scrunched his eyebrows together. “O-okay. I know. Bye. L-love you, mom.”

Evan bit his lip. “I have to go.”

Connor raised an eyebrow when the other boy didn’t move from his spot. Connor sighed. “Do you need a ride again?”

“Y-yes please.” Evan’s phone rang out with the same song about the world being built for two or something like that. He looked at his phone and sighed. “I-I thought this time, I w-would-”

“Actually get the chance to kill yourself? I feel that.” Connor hopped off the railing. “Last thing I would’ve expected to do is drag your sorry ass back to the Cedar Grove Housing Development.”

“S-sorry.”

Connor rolled his eyes. “It was a joke.”

“O-oh. Sorry.” Evan pulled at the hem of his shirt awkwardly as he trailed Connor back to his car.

“Stop fucking saying that.”

Evan bit his lip. “Sor-okay.”

Connor opened the door to his car. “Get in, fucker. I just want to go home.”

Evan looked hurt, but got into the passenger seat nevertheless. Connor sighed and started his car, driving lazily and too fast for comfort, but if Connor crashed the car at least both of them would die like they wanted to, right?

Connor drove to Evan’s house in record time, which might have been part of the fact that he knew where he was now and that he was driving at a speed that any professional racer would be proud of. When he pulled up to Evan’s ramshackle house, the other boy hesitated before opening the door. “Connor,” he said, not a trace of stutter in his voice, “thank you. I’m sure people would miss you if you were gone. No one deserves to disappear.”

Connor ignored the tightening in his chest. “Thanks for the kind words, fuckface. Go inside so you don’t give your mom a heart attack.”

Evan shot Connor the barest hint of a smile. “B-bye.”

“Bye, loser.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor and Evan make mistakes.

On Friday, Connor didn't go to school.

He played it off as sickness, and his mom swallowed the put-a-hot-towel-on-your-head-to-pretend-you-have-a-fever act that he had been doing for as long as he could remember hook, line, and sinker.

So he decided to stay in bed all day.

It's not like anybody would miss him at school. He didn't really have any friends except that Beck girl, but she was friends with everyone, whether they wanted to be or not. It had gotten to the point where teachers were more surprised if he showed up than the opposite.

It was just… too much. Twice he had gone to the same place to try and end his life, and twice the same boy had saved him. The same boy he had only talked to once, to ask him if they should start a student revolution in seventh grade (he was making a petition, which, looking back on it, sort of goes against the idea of a revolution). 

Connor knew little to nothing about Evan. Evan… Harris? No. Hansen, it was Hansen. Evan Hansen. 

“Evan Hansen,” he muttered to himself. Which might have been weird, but Connor had passed the point of caring about weirdness years ago.

Connor felt sick with the burden of existence. Why did he have to be alive and feeling feelings? He didn't sign up for this. 

Connor’s head ached, and he just wanted it all to stop. He wanted his heart to stop beating and his blood to stop flowing for just a minute of precious absolute nothing. Which, of course, is not what happens when you die, but Connor liked to believe that was the case. That once your heart quit beating, everything stopped and rested. 

Connor refused to believe that it was bullshit. It couldn’t be. Growing up in a family that switched religions every weekend, he developed a certain numbness to holding falsehoods dear. However, this was a lie he just couldn’t let go of. To believe that there was rest and quiet for people was like a security blanket. Granted, a security blanket that drove you to suicidal and borderline psychopathic tendencies, but a welcome presence nonetheless. 

Connor rolled over in his bed and pulled his blanket tighter around his slim frame. His parents made a fuck ton of money every year, they really couldn’t care enough to turn on the heating?

A door slammed somewhere in the house, followed by Zoe shouting an “I’M HOOOOME!” in a shrill voice that made Connor’s ears hurt. What time was it? He glanced at the alarm clock next to his bed. 4:16. Shit.

“Anybody home?” Zoe called, stomping up the stairs. “Mom?”

“She’s at yoga!” Connor summoned all of his energy to speak at a level that wasn’t a croak. “You’re stuck with me for now.”

“Oh.” Connor could hear Zoe’s footsteps head down the hall, past his bedroom, and into her own room, where she dropped her heavy backpack and picked up her guitar.

Connor didn’t like admitting that he liked his sister’s music. Hell, he didn’t even like admitting that he liked his sister. Still, the way she played was so light, so carefree, that Connor couldn’t help but appreciate it. She could rock a mean guitar solo and touch the strings of an acoustic so delicately that you would think she was strumming a cloud. The soft tone’s of Zoe’s guitar carried through the walls, filling the house with a sweet sound that made the house light up with music like it had never before. Connor got this feeling every time she played, though he never told her. Instead, he sat in his room reading his stupid book about the multitude of writings influential in the creation of the U.S. It wasn’t even homework, he just found it on his bed with a sticky note from his mom that said “your father and I want you to expand your mindset. Try this instead of those fiction books!” with a poorly drawn heart. 

Just as he had gotten to the Federalist Papers, he heard a familiar song come from Zoe’s room. Zoe was singing a song that he could’ve sworn he had heard before, her voice carrying over the music and giving Connor chills.

“It’s you, it’s you, it’s all for you, everything I do-  
I tell you all the time  
Heaven is a place on earth with you  
Tell me all the things you wanna do  
I heard that you like the bad girls honey, and is that true?”

Connor felt goosebumps rise on his arms. This was the song on Evan’s phone, the melancholy song about love that had kept Connor awake at night for days.

It all came back to Evan.

Connor pushed off his sheet and walked to Zoe’s room in his pajamas and bare feet, pressing his face against the hard wood of the door. Zoe’s music stopped. “Connor?” She called out.

Before he had time to answer, the door was flung open and Connor was face to face with his sister, who still had a guitar around her neck. “What were you doing?” She asked, her voice icy.

“Nothing,” Connor said sullenly. “I was on my way to the bathroom.”

“Okay.” Zoe looked hopeful for a moment and looked up at her brother. “Wanna hear what I’ve been working on?”

For a moment, Connor was tempted to say yes. He wanted to be in Zoe’s pastel purple room, to sit on her plush white rug and let the music envelop him. He wanted to be her brother again. 

Then he remembered the years of yelling, of screaming that he was going to kill her and kicking her door down in a fit of blind rage. How could she ever forgive him? It was better they stayed far, far away from each other.

“Why the fuck would I want to do that?” He turned away and shut the bathroom door behind him before he could see Zoe’s face crumble in a way he knew all too well.

Connor waited with his back pressed against the bathroom door until he could hear Zoe’s door close again. Much to his dismay, however, she didn’t resume her playing. Connor sighed and turned on the shower. 

The water was much too hot, but Connor had left the realm of caring. His hair was matted and greasy and he had to use Zoe’s shower brush to work the shampoo through his tangled hair. The shampoo they had this time smelled like flowers and rain, and Connor let his mind soar back to the bridge and the scent of the water and the wet leaves on the stones. The way the mud caked to his boots and the way Evan’s hand felt in his. Connor closed his eyes and tried to imagine the color of the sunset, but the image was replaced by Evan, looking scared. Scared of Connor. Evan morphed into Zoe, who was scared and disappointed and looking sorry for her brother. Connor’s eyes snapped open and filled with scalding water. Connor scrubbed at his skin with renewed vigor, determined to get out of the shower and back into his bed as fast as he possibly could. The golden ecstasy of the night at the bridge, Connor’s feet dangling over the water as he talked like a normal human being to an almost-stranger who called him a friend, had been shattered.

Now there was just the pounding of his heart and the pain of hot water and soap in his eyes. 

Connor stepped out of the shower, not caring about the amount of water he was dripping on the floor as he dried himself off with one of Zoe’s monogrammed towels. He would give it back later. Connor snuck by Zoe’s room, careful not to step on a creaky board and alert her to his presence. He slipped into his bedroom and pulled on an old t-shirt and some pajama pants and climbed back into bed, pulling the blankets tight around him. His wet hair stuck to his face and his skin still felt feverish and hot from the burning water. 

Like every time one lies down in bed after a shower, Connor’s mind stumbled over itself in its fury of thoughts. His brain was a mess of Zoe and Evan and regrets he had and guilt from minor instances when he was a kid. That one time he had stayed up an hour after his bedtime when he was seven and his parents never knew. Did he really want to die with that on his chest?

Yes, Connor thought. Yes, I want to die. I am fine with leaving that as my legacy.

His mother’s shrill voice cut through Connor’s inner monologue like a knife. A high-pitched, annoying knife. At least now he knew where Zoe got it from.

“CONNOR! COME DOWNSTAIRS!”

With a groan, Connor rolled out of bed (quite literally) and traipsed downstairs into the kitchen, where his mother was waiting in the kitchen, unpacking her suede messenger bag onto the kitchen island. 

Connor grabbed a glass out of the cabinet and filled it with lukewarm water from the sink. “What?” He snapped.

“I just wanted to say hi, honey.” Cynthia pulled a yoga mat from her bag and tucked it into the shoe shelf in the mudroom jutting off from the kitchen. “I feel like I never get to talk to you.”

Connor lifted an eyebrow and took a swig of water. “Hi.”

“What, I don’t get a welcome-home kiss on the cheek anymore?”

Connor scowled. “I don’t know how old you think I am, but I’m not touching you with a ten-foot pole.”

Cynthia’s face fell, but she shrugged it off with a smile. “I get it, I’m sweaty. Hot yoga’ll do that to you.”

“Sure.” Connor dumped the remaining water down the sink and started upstairs.

“Connor, sweetie,” his mother said softly. “Talk to me. How was your day?” Her voice held an edge of desperation, almost as if she was worried that with a single wrong move, her son would slip through her fingers.

“It was fucking great, mom.” Connor spat. “I slept all day and wallowed in my own misery.”

“Language, Connor.” Cynthia pulled a water bottle out of her bag and handed it to Connor. “Could you put this in the dishwasher for me?”

Connor placed the bottle in the dishwasher haphazardly and closed the door with his foot, despite many reprimandings over the years for doing just the thing. His mother, instead of calling him out on it, simply sighed.

“Make sure you get all your homework done, honey. I won’t keep you.” Cynthia waved Connor away weakly.

“Thanks,” Connor muttered, turning and walking back up into the welcoming haven of his bedroom. Homework, shmomework. He was going back to sleep.

 

~

 

Connor, against his greatest wishes, did not go to the bridge that weekend. Instead, he went to Starbucks.

His reasoning was this: if he was somehow able to bump into the same person in the same secluded spot twice, there was a good chance that person hung out in secluded spots often. The solution? Go to the least secluded spot in town.

In retrospect, this was not a good plan, considering that the local Starbucks was full of every type of person he tried his hardest to avoid during school. Connor walked to the Starbucks five blocks from his house at 1:30 on Saturday, having woken up a half hour before. The coffee shop was a hub of energy, with businesspeople and teenagers clamoring for their daily cup with equal zeal. Connor pulled his laptop out of his bag and sat down in a plush red armchair in the corner, farthest away from the door, counter, and any windows. Trying to drown out the noise, he put in headphones and opted to, instead of doing homework, read the only comfort book that his parents hadn’t yet donated to the homeless. The Secret Life of Bees. 

Goddamn, wasn’t that the book he had made some snarky comment about that- that night at the bridge?

Connor rubbed his temples and opened to a random page somewhere in the middle. Some random page in the middle where May Boatwright was found lying dead in a river by her family. A bit too close to comfort for Connor.

“Is that Connor fucking Murphy?” A voice cut through the din. Connor didn’t look up. “What are you doing here, planning on shooting up the place?”

Connor glanced up from his book. Some kid from school was standing by the door, surrounded by a pack of girls. He stalked over to where Connor was sitting, swaggering like he owned the place. The boy plucked Connor’s book out of his hands, earning him a glare. “Watcha reading, Murphy?”

Connor simply fixed his steely gaze on the other boy. 

“Are you planning on being a beekeeper or something?” The boy scoffed. “A lame-ass job for a lame-ass college dropout in the making.” He dumped the book back in Connor’s lap with a complete disregard for keeping his place. “I have better things to do than tell you things you already know. Just fucking kill yourself, freak.”

Connor scowled and picked his book back up. He only got about three sentences in before another- significantly more quiet and less dickbaggy- voice disturbed his peace.

“D-didn’t you say you read that in-in ninth grade?”

Connor looked up to meet Evan’s eyes wordlessly. 

“S-sorry, I, um, I saw those-those people harassing you and-and I thought that maybe it would be nice to, um, see a f-friendly face? That was really w-weird, I’m so so sorry, you d-don’t have to-”

“It’s cool.” Connor set down the book. “What are you doing here?”

“I-I came to get tea? Be-because coffee, uh, makes me really jittery?” Evan tugged at the hem of his shirt. “I-I guess I’m always jittery but-but coffee makes it worse so my-my therapist told me to stop drinking it so I did.”

“Huh.” Connor shoved his book into his bag and sat up, trying to indicate that he wanted to leave. Evan didn't seem to get the cue. “I really just came here to avoid-”

“A-avoid who? Be-because anyone you would want to avoid is-is here, so you're not doing a good job of it.” Evan sniffled in that way that made it seem like he had a cold or had just been crying, which wasn't out of the realm of imagination considering it was cold season and he seemed like the type of person to cry at random.

“Nobody.” 

“Oh.” Evan, instead of leaving like a normal person, sat down in the empty chair next to Connor. “W-what are you doing?”

“Well, I was reading.” Connor folded his arms. “Until you came along.”

“Oh, I-I’m so so sorry, I c-can leave if you, um, want me to?” Evan sprang up from the chair. 

“No, you’re fine.” Connor groaned inwardly at his own weakness. 

Evan sat back down, sitting awkwardly straight at the edge of the seat. Connor glanced up at Evan’s nervous eyes flitting around the room like a caged animal. “Here.” Connor pressed a ten dollar bill into his hands. “Buy your tea or whatever. I want to get out of this place.”

Evan, in surprise, dropped the bill and fumbled to pick it up. “Nonono! I-I have money, you don’t have to, to do that. I-I’m fine.” He hastily held it out to the taller boy, who gently pushed his hands back.

“Seriously. Buy something. Because if you don’t buy a tea with that money, I will buy another pack of cigarettes.” Connor rolled his eyes. “Get me a scone, too.”

Evan stood up and stumbled over to the counter, tripping over his shoelaces and hyperventilating while he waited for the girl at the counter to pour his drink. After a tense-looking two minutes, he returned with a small, steaming cup of tea and a lemon scone in a paper takeout bag. Evan held it out to his companion, who made no move to grab it. “You eat it. I only told you to get me a scone because you would never buy one with my money.”

“H-how did you know that?”

Connor cocked an eyebrow. “Because you have the backbone of a pillow pet.”

“Fa-fair point.” Evan bit his lip. “I’ll eat it if, um, y-you eat half. Please?”

“Why would I do that?” 

“Be-because you don’t look like you had breakfast.” Evan held out the bag to Connor, flinching as if he expected him to freak over the prospect of eating half of a scone. “I, uh, I didn’t either.”

Connor stood up definitively. “Well, that settles it. We’ll split the scone because we’re somehow insanely good at reading each other, despite only talking twice.”

Evan offered a half-smile. Connor walked out of the Starbucks quickly, not even bothering to make sure Evan was even following him out. As soon as the din of the cramped shop subsided, Connor leaned against the window and took a deep breath of air untinged by the overpowering scent of coffee. Out of the corner of his eye, Connor could see Evan mimic his position against the window, looking up into the sky. They stayed like that for what felt like ages to Connor, his eyes closed and a soft wind blowing his flyaway hairs into his eyes.

“I didn’t bring a car.”

Connor broke the silence suddenly, keeping his eyes shut tight. Evan didn’t move.

“I was going to stay here for like, three hours and leave. But I guess we’re like, officially hanging out now, or whatever.” Connor opened his eyes and shoved his hands in his pockets. “So… I have no ideas of where to go other than the bridge. And you probably don’t want to go back there-”

“N-no, that would be great.”

“What?” Connor said a little too incredulously. “The bridge? Seriously?”

Evan shrugged and stared at his shoes. “I-I like it there. It’s, um, peaceful, I guess.”

“Oh.” Connor looked around him awkwardly. “So I’d need to get my car…”

“Oh! Y-yeah. Uh, I’ll… wait here?”

“No, shithead.” Connor rolled his eyes. “I’m not abandoning you outside of a Starbucks. You’re coming with me.”

“Sorry.”

“Stop fucking apologizing.” Connor started to walk away from the Starbucks and towards his house. “Come on.”

Evan walked alongside him, or tried to, but ended up tripping over his own feet trying to make up for Connor’s long legs. They walked the five blocks to Connor’s house in tense silence. When they arrived at the house, Connor attempted to get Evan to come in with him, which resulted in an unnecessary amount of protest. Evan was left waiting on the front stoop.

Connor threw his keys in the air and caught them methodically as he walked down the sidewalk towards his car. Evan fumbled to open the passenger door and climbed in. As soon as the car started, loud, booming rock music came blasting through the speakers. Evan flinched at the sudden noise but softened when he saw Connor bobbing his head to the music as he drove. 

Connor shook his head with a smile on his face. “This is the best venting song. God, I love it.” He grinned and started to scream the lyrics. “CAN YOU SEE THE REAL ME, DOCTOR? DOCTOR! CAN YOU SEE THE REAL ME, DOCTOR? YEAH!”

Evan smiled nervously. “What, um, what is this?”

“It’s Quadrophenia, dude! You’ve never heard of The Who?” Evan shook his head and Connor scoffed. “How can you claim to be punk when you don’t even know The Who?”

Evan knit his brows. “I-I don’t, uh, I don’t claim to be punk?”

“I’m joking.” Connor rolled his eyes. “Turn it up.”

“M-more? It’s already really, um, really loud.”

“You fucking heard me. Fucking bump it, dude.” Evan complied, his hand shaking as he turned up the dial. 

Connor kept an eye on the steadily growing redness in his companion’s face as he continued to shriek lyrics about no one understanding the real him. Which, in his defence, was a suitable song for the situation. He drove recklessly, cutting corners close and running the few red lights they had in town. 

After an awkward few minutes, Connor pulled up in the small clearing he had parked in twice before. Evan stalled in the passenger seat for a few seconds before opening the door and stepping out, tilting his head up to the tree-covered sky. 

Connor shoved his hands in his pockets and started to walk towards the bridge. “This is a weird ass place to want to go, Hansen. You know that, right?”

“I-I’m sorry.” Evan jogged to keep up with Connor. “It's just, it’s so peaceful and, and secluded that it's like, um, it's like another world. Like nothing, uh, like nothing matters and there's no real world outside.”

“Huh.” 

Evan squatted down in the dirt, plucking a flower out of the ground. “Roundlobe hepatica.”

Connor cocked an eyebrow. “The fuck?”

Evan stood up, the small blue flower standing at attention between his fingers. “These. They're roundlobe hepaticas. They're one of my, um, my favorite flowers. I did a project on them in third grade.”

“Well, shit. What vast knowledge do you have in that pretty little head of yours?” Connor playfully ruffled his hair and cringed internally.

“Have you, uh, have you ever heard of the corpse flower?”

“Sort of. Didn't one bloom in 2012?”

Evan smiled. “2013. They- they smell like carrion when they bloom, a-and it attracts bugs to it. It’s scientifically called amorphophallus titanum, but it's now known as titan arum because the scientific name was considered to inappropriate for TV.”

“Why is that inappropriate?”

Evan bit his lip. “I-In Greek,” he started shyly, “‘amorphos’ means misshapen, ‘phallos’ is phallus, and ‘titan’ means giant.”

“So let me get this straight,” Connor said, snorting. “Some fancy scientist wanted to name this plant ‘giant ugly looking dick’?”

Evan laughed, a snorting, choking laugh that was still soft at the core despite being a relatively ugly laugh. Connor’s head spun. “Pretty much.”

“Good gosh. I used to think plant facts were as boring as they come.” Connor ran a hand through his hair. “Did you know the African penguin is nicknamed the jackass penguin?”

Connor noticed that Evan closed his eyes and scrunched his nose when he laughed. Before either of them knew it, they were at the bridge and neither of them were trying to throw themselves off it.

Connor jumped up onto the railing like he had done before, and Evan joined him without hesitating. “I was really just planning on reading and eating Cheez-Its all day. I've got to thank you for not fucking leaving me alone, Hansen.”

Evan smiled and looked down at the water. “You’re welcome.”

 

~

 

At 6:20 am on Monday, Evan was woken up by his phone playing bird noises, and alarm his mother had chosen in hopes it would “peacefully prepare him for the day”.

It didn't.

Evan, ever the image of grace, tripped on his sheets as he attempted to get out of bed. His Goodwill-salvaged flannel pajama pants were too long, causing him to trip for the second time in twenty seconds just on his way to the bathroom. 

He was out of toothpaste, leaving him to resort to stealing a tube of strawberry (death) flavored toothpaste from his mom’s emergency hospital overnight bag. 

Evan brushed his teeth hastily, gagging from the strawberry flavor and almost choking from the amount of toothpaste he had put on the brush. He had been awake for five minutes and was already screwing up.

Quickly getting dressed, he made his way into the kitchen only to find a sticky note on the counter with a ten-dollar bill next to it. 

“I’m going to be gone tonight,” the note read in his mom’s messy scrawl, “so here’s some money for dinner. Please eat tonight!! Make sure you write a letter for therapy tomorrow. I don't want another disappointed email from Dr. Sherman! Love you- Mom.”

Evan sighed and grabbed an apple from the plastic grocery bag on the counter. That would work for breakfast. His phone buzzed with a demanding text from Jared.

From: Jared COOLMAN  
So what happened on you’re date with the psycho yesterday?

From: me  
*your

From: Jared COOLMAN  
You cant just text me “i’m busy Jared im out with conor murphy Jared” and then disapear for the rest of the day!!!!!!!!

From: me  
I know, I'm sorry.

From: Jared COOLMAN  
STOP DEFLECTING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

From: me  
I bumped into him at Starbucks and we went to the park. Happy?

Evan bit his lip. What if Jared had been at the park that day and knew that he wasn't there? Then he would know that he had gone to Suicide Canal with the school’s token suicidal freak and tell everyone-

From: Jared COOLMAN  
Oh god people need to here this

From: me  
Please don't tell anyone Jared!

Evan’s breathing sped up. This is why he hated telling Jared things, he always found out a way to make Evan flip out over them. He probably wouldn't tell anyone. He was probably just saying that to see Evan’s reaction.

From: Jared COOLMAN  
To late see ya at school tree fucker

Evan put his phone down and buried his head in his hands. It was going to be an interesting day, that was for sure.

He took his apple on the road as he walked to school alone, not even able to pass the time listening to music out of fear that a murderer would sneak up behind him and he wouldn't hear anything. He had had that fear for years, and he never got over the feeling that if he had his earbuds in he wouldn't know anything was happening until his brains were splattered on the pavement. A gory thought for a twelve-year-old to think up, but a valid fear nonetheless.

So Evan was alone with his thoughts.

When he was younger, Evan wanted to be a cloud. He thought it would be nice and relaxing to float along the sky, completely at the mercy of the breeze. Not so stuck in his head and nervous all the time. This was, of course, before he was diagnosed with anxiety, back when he thought that if he just smiled harder and talked to less people his stutter would go away and his heart would stop doing that funny thing where it beat really fast and wouldn't stop.

Evan thought that being a cloud would be really crappy. If you were a cloud, that would mean you would have no control over your life. Completely helpless to the hands of time. Eventually, you would rain and rain until there was nothing left. Evan felt like a stormcloud.

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts of clouds that he neglected to notice the wet patch on the marble plaza outside of school and ended up slipping and landing directly on his ass, making his pants uncomfortably damp and his tailbone hurt like the dickens.

Evan got up and waddled into school, ignoring the curious looks thrown his way. By the time he reached the 700s, where his first class was, his thighs were burning and he was considering seeing the nurse for a bruised tailbone.

“Hey, Casanova!” Jared threw his arm around Evan’s shoulders, making him jump. “I see you're having a little trouble walking there. A little early-morning fuck with Hot Topic before coming to school?”

“Nonono, Jared, that’s not what happened! I-I slipped on the steps outside of school.” Evan wrestled out of Jared’s grasp.

“That’s not what I heard.” Jared grinned wickedly. “Katie’s been telling the whole school about your little rendezvous on Saturday.”

“Jared, I told you not to tell anyone!”

Jared laughed and started to walk away, throwing Evan a peace sign. “Whatever. Later, loser.”

Evan stood paralyzed in the middle of the hallway. What was Katie telling people? Oh god, what was Connor going to think? 

Evan got his answer too soon.

“Hey, Connor!” Evan’s head snapped up to see Jared standing an uncomfortable distance from Connor, who looked like a deer in the headlights. “Loving the new hair length. Very school-shooter chic!”

Connor just stood, frozen, his glare boring into the other boy. 

“I was just… kidding. It was a joke?” Jared’s smile wavered as Connor stared at him with that unrelenting gaze.

“Yeah, no, it was funny. I'm laughing, can't you tell?” Connor took a few steps towards Jared, his voice taking on an edge of anger. “Am I not laughing hard enough for you?”

Jared laughed nervously. “You're such a freak.” With a glance at Evan that seemed to convey a feeling of ‘stay away from this psycho!’, he bolted into his English classroom.

Which left Evan and Connor alone in the hallway.

Evan looked down at his shoes and sniffed.

“What the fuck are you laughing at?”

Evan looked up into the eyes of Connor Murphy. “W-what?” His stomach churned with the sense of oncoming trouble.

“Stop fucking laughing at me!” Connor took a few more steps towards Evan.

Evan shook his head hastily. “Nono, I wasn't- that’s not-”

“You think I’m a freak?” Connor was close enough to Evan for him to see the small patch of brown in his eyes, something he had never noticed before. Had anyone noticed? “We’re not even friends, you fucking loser! I'm not a freak, you're the fucking freak!”

And then Evan’s heart stopped beating and Connor’s hands were on his chest, and then he was on the ground and the world was tilting and spinning around him.

Evan clambered to pull himself up, his backside throbbing from the second harsh fall of the day. Zoe Murphy came running up, a look of horror on her face.

“Sorry for my brother, I saw him push you, he’s a psychopath. Evan, right?”

Evan nodded. “Uh-yep. Hansen. E-Evan Hansen. That's me.”

Zoe laughed softly. “I'm Zoe.”

“Yes, no, I know, Zoe.” Zoe stuck out her hand for a shake, and Evan was going to take it before realizing that his hand was probably really sweaty and oh god, that was so gross, who has sweaty hands-

“You know?”

“Yeah, I've seen you play guitar in jazz band?” Okay, now say something so that you don't seem like a stalker. “I love jazz band. I love jazz! Well, not like all jazz, but definitely like, jazz band jazz. That's so weird, I'm sorry.”

Evan internally slapped himself.

“Look. I just want to apologize for my brother, because you know him, he’s never gonna man up and apologize himself.” Zoe shook her head. “Stay away from him, Evan. He’s a class A basket case.”

“Nono, he’s nice to me!” 

Zoe cocked an eyebrow, and the similarity between the siblings was so stark it made Evan’s head spin. “Except when he shoved you to the ground in the hallway just now.”

“I tripped!” Evan blurted, knowing that wouldn't work. Zoe had seen, she would know what had happened.

“No, I saw it. He pushed you.” Zoe bit her lip. “You don't have to protect him. Everyone knows he’s crazy.”

“Nohe’snotyoureallyshouldn’tsaythingslikethataboutyourbrotheranditreallywasn’tlikethatitwasallmyfault!”

“Woah, slow down. What?”

Evan felt like he was going to faint. Here was Zoe Murphy, talking to him, and here he was making a complete fool of himself.

“It was all my fault anyway, that, um, that he pushed me, and you really, you really shouldn’t say things like that about your brother, he’s your brother, you know?” Evan laughed awkwardly. “I-I, um, I’m going to leave.”

Zoe knit her brow. “Okay…” She scuffed the linoleum tiles of the hallway with the toe of her sneakers. “If he’s ever a dick to you, like he will be, obviously, tell me and I'll deal with it. He’s already on the verge of getting his car taken away for smoking weed in his room.” With that, she turned on her heel and left.

Evan felt even more confused and hopeless than before. Why was Connor acting so strangely? Why was Zoe Murphy talking to him, and why would she feel that way about her own brother? Maybe it was a sibling thing Evan didn’t understand.

The bell rang, waking Evan from his reverie. He hurried down the hallway and quickly slid into his desk in the back of his history class. 

“Today,” the teacher said, shooting a look at Evan, “we will be presenting our projects on the daily lives of our chosen subjects in the Middle Ages. Who did we decide to go first of Friday?”

In the front row, Alana Beck raised her hand. The teacher nodded. “Alright. Alana, you may present.”

“Good morning, everyone!” Alana greeted the class, chipper as ever. “I chose to do my project on knights. Now, a knight’s code of chivalry had him pledge allegiance to his god, the lord of his manor, and his chosen lady. For example, if Connor Murphy was a knight, he would be sworn to protect God, his father, and Evan!” Alana gestured to where Evan was sitting in the back of the room, trying to disappear behind his laptop screen. Laughter and whispers rose from the class, and Evan’s face turned a brilliant shade of red. “Alrighty. Medieval knights lived better lives than peasants, but they still weren't classified as nobles due to…”

As Alana went on about the daily life of knights, Evan sunk deeper into his chair and tried to ignore the stares and whispers still being thrown his way. 

After class, Alana pulled him aside outside the doorway. “Look, I’m really sorry. I didn't want to make you uncomfortable, but studies have shown a common joke or current event can grab attention better.”

“O-oh. It’s f-fine, really.” 

“Oh, good. Did you like the presentation?” 

“Y-yeah. I thought-”

Alana beamed and cut in. “I can't wait for your presentation. What subject did you choose?”

“Peasants.”

“Exciting!” Alana threw Evan one final grin. “I've got to get to my next class. See you in history tomorrow!” She turned and flounced away, her braids bouncing behind her as she skipped down the hall.

Rattled from the whole ordeal, Evan slowly made his way to his next class, which was thankfully a silent study period. He technically could've chosen an elective like art or computer science, but he chose a study, leaving him the only senior in a class of freshman. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and with an apologetic glance around the class, he opened it to read the text.

From: Jared COOLMAN  
I heard connor pushed you tday i told you he was a sycho 

From: me  
You really need to enable autocorrect, Jared.

From: Jared COOLMAN  
Ev did conner cuss you out in the hallwsy or not just fuvckigg answer the qusietion

From: me  
He did. 

From: Jared COOLMAN  
I guess the sex wasnt that good then

Evan almost choked on his own spit. Shutting off his phone, he pulled out his math homework and threw himself into it wholeheartedly, ignoring every vibration of his cell phone. 

Evan jumped when someone poked his arm, a bored-looking freshman with a hot pink hall pass in her hand. “Do you know how to get to the science office?”

Evan cleared his throat, then cleared his throat again just to make sure that he wouldn't end up choking or croaking out directions and making this innocent freshman think he was a freak. “Uh, yeah. It's right, um, right next to the math office i-in the 200s.”

She looked down at her phone. “Thanks, dude.”

Evan coughed. “Y-you're welcome.”

The freshman disappeared out the door, leaving Evan alone. 

His math homework was making his head spin, so he decided to put it aside and work on his English paper instead. Write 500 words or more about the elements of fiction. Evan pulled out his notebook and started to write, trying to quiet the noises in his head with vocabulary about setting, characterization, and the like. His phone kept buzzing. 

Finally, with an overexaggerated sigh, he pulled his phone out of his backpack and checked the texts he had received.

Most of them were from Jared, all along the lines of ‘spill what happened with Connor I need to know’. There was one text from his mom, saying that she would be home late tonight and to just go to sleep at a normal time. 

The last message was the most shocking. 

From: Unknown Number  
Hey, it's Zoe. 

Evan almost fainted right then and there. Zoe Murphy had his number? How? The only people who he had in his contacts were Jared, his mom, and his therapist. He wasn't some sort of cell phone floozy, giving anyone and everyone his phone number on a whim.

From: Unknown Number  
I got ur number from Alana who got it from Rebekah who got it from Jared, I think.

Oh. 

From: me  
What do you want?

Crap, was that too demanding? Evan contemplated sending an apology text, but decided against it when he saw Zoe’s typing bubble.

From: Unknown Number  
I need Connor help

From: me  
I’m not the best person for that, sorry.

From: Unknown Number  
But you're friends???

From: me  
Sort of?

From: Unknown Number  
We’ll deal with that ambiguous answer later. He's not in school

From: Unknown Number  
Which normally wouldn't be a big deal BUT

From: Unknown Number  
He was rlly on edge this morning and then the whole pushing u thing happened and I'm worried about him

From: me  
Doesn’t he skip often?

Was often too formal? Evan probably should've used a lot, or frequently, or anything that didn't make him sound like he was living in the 1800s.

From: Unknown Number  
Ya but I checked his usual spots earlier and he's nowhere to be found

Evan bit his lip. Was he really doing this?

From: me  
Have you checked the bridge?

From: Unknown Number  
???

From: me  
Bell Jar Bridge

From: Unknown Number  
SHIT SHIT U THINK HES GONNA KILL HIMSELF?

From: me  
I don't know. But he might be there. I wouldn't worry too much, but it's a good idea to check

From: Unknown Number  
I have study next. I'll check then

From: me  
Tell me what you find.

Evan put his head down on his folded arms and remained that way for the rest of study.

When the lunch bell rang, Evan packed his bag and trudged to the cafeteria. Quickly picking up a water bottle and a bag of pretzels, he walked to the library and found a seat in a secluded corner in the historical fiction section. 

Evan picked a random book off the shelf and started to read. It was some sort of World War II book and definitely not something Evan would usually read. Just as he was reaching to put it back, a voice brought him back to reality.

“You have my book.”

Evan looked up to see the lanky form of Connor Murphy, his hands shoved in his jacket pockets and his posture humbling.

Evan cleared his throat awkwardly. “W-what?”

“My book. You have it.”

Evan laughed nervously, looking down at the book in his hands. “Oh, is this yours? I, uh, I didn’t notice! Haha.”

Connor rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean, it doesn't belong to me, you can still check it out if you want. It's just… that's my book.”

Evan sniffed. “I don't- I don’t follow?”

“My parents,” Connor began with a pained expression. “They don't like me reading so much. They, uh, they think the books I read are for trashy teenage girls. So every lunch I come and read another chapter of that book. All The Light We Cannot See. It's really good. I mean, so far. I haven't finished it.”

Evan stood up and thrust the book into Connor’s hands. “Then take it! I- I wasn't even really, um, really going to read it. You can take it.”

Connor’s face was unreadable. “Thanks, Hansen.”

“N-no problemo.” Evan flushed red. “Okay. I'm gonna-”

“Why did you tell Zoe where to find me?”

“Who? Me? I didn't tell her, no way jose…” Evan tugged at the hem of his shirt, then shoved his definitely sweaty hands in his pockets to stop the fidget.

“You're the only person who fucking knows about the bridge!” Connor said much too loudly for a library, and Evan’s blood ran cold. Was this it? Would Connor finally snap and kill him? Everyone said Connor was a serial killer in the making; would Evan be his first taste of blood? “Zoe came and found me and dragged me back to this hellhole of a school!”

Evan stood, frozen as Connor towered in front of him, his eyes full of rage and his shoulders tense. The library was quiet aside from Connor’s heaving breaths.

“Why?” Connor said eventually, his voice low and quiet. His shoulders slumped and he closed his eyes as if to ward off tears. “Why can’t you let me die?”

Evan reached out a hand, stopping short before touching Connor. A single peace offering. An olive branch.

Connor hugged the book to his chest, turned on his heel, and left the library with his head down.

Evan let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. 

So this was it. Yesterday, he had been well on his way to having a real friend. Now he was back to square one with his mom and Jared. 

Evan took a shaky breath and stood in the historical fiction section until the bell rang, seemingly frozen in time. 

A wave of noise came bursting through the library doors as a stampede of students left the cafeteria and walked to their next class, laughing and yelling and all in all just being too loud, too loud. Evan could feel his breathing quicken and his mind picked up the pace as if someone had pressed the ‘faster’ button on his brain treadmill. Evan felt the room lurch around him, but he knew he hadn’t budged from his spot among the historical fiction books. Connor hated him, he knew it, he had ruined it all when he had decided to talk to Connor freaking Murphy, of all people, after he shoved him to the ground in the hallway. Jared would hate him because now he knows that Evan might not be 100% straight, and why would he want to hang out with Evan if he was gay? Jared probably thought Evan was hitting on him when he invited him over for taco Tuesday with his mom the other day. Speaking of his mom, she definitely hated him; wasn’t she always pushing for Evan to make more friends? Of course he had to ruin that too.

Black spots swam before Evan’s eyes. He needed to sit down, he needed his meds but they were sitting in his medicine cabinet at home and oh god, he was going to faint. 

Evan clutched onto the nearest bookshelf. His legs were going to give out, he knew it. He was going to faint in the middle of the library and everyone was going to see and they would call his mom and she would have to come and get him instead of going to work and she wouldn’t get her paycheck and then they would be even worse off, all because he couldn’t get his act together and calm down.

“Um, are you okay?” A voice said from behind him, cutting through the static in Evan’s head.

Evan blinked rapidly to get rid of the black spots. “Uh- yeah. I'm, yeah, I'm okay.”

Zoe Murphy was standing next to him, her hands gripped tight on her backpack straps and her brow knit in a way that directly mirrored her brother. “What happened?”

“Nothing. It, uh, it was nothing, r-really.” Evan stammered, trying to get his breathing back on track. In two three four, out two three four. In two three four, out two three four.

Zoe bit her lip. “It wasn't Connor, was it?”

“No!” Evan said, a bit too loudly and a bit too quickly. “It wasn't him! Why would you ever think that? It's just, um, I had a math test last period? Yeah, that's it. It was a math test. Yep.”

Zoe twisted a ring on her index finger. “Oookay. Do you need me to walk you to the nurse or something?”

Evan blanched. “Nonono, you don’t have to worry yourself, I can-”

“No, you look seriously freaked out.” Zoe grabbed his wrist and dragged him out of the library. “You’re going to the nurse’s office, buddy.”

Evan followed behind her like a puppy, trying to ignore the buzzing in his head and the warm feeling of Zoe’s fingers on his skin.

 

~

 

At 7:23, Evan got a text from his mom saying that she wouldn’t be home until late and to eat the Chinese leftovers in the fridge. He sighed and turned off his phone, looking back at his Spanish homework, trying to make sense of the conjugations. 

After ten minutes of struggling through his Spanish packet, Evan made his way downstairs into the kitchen and opened the fridge door, taking in the sparse contents of the fridge. So it was either old Chinese food or a ham sandwich. Evan grabbed the Chinese container out of the fridge, dumped it on a plate, and stuck it in the microwave. He watched as the plate spun as it heated, refusing to take his eyes off it in fear it would catch fire when he wasn’t looking.

There was only about fifteen seconds left when Evan heard the noise. It wasn’t loud, a choking noise and a sound like something heavy hitting the ground just outside his house. Despite his (completely rational) fear of axe murderers, Evan walked to the living room and peeked through the blinds to see an unidentifiable body lying on the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street. Alone.

The timer on the microwave beeped loudly and incessantly, but Evan was already out the door. The person on the ground was still, but definitely not okay. He nudged the person’s shoulder, and when they didn’t respond, Evan pushed them onto their back to look into the face of none other than Connor Murphy. His pupils were dilated and his breathing was slow, too slow. His skin was cold and clammy. Shoving his panic aside, Evan pulled out his cell phone and with shaky fingers managed to call 911. 

“911, what is your emergency?” The calm voice on the other side of the phone said. 

“M-my, someone, he, he collapsed in front of my house, please send- please help!” 

“Where are you?” The woman said, her voice level and calculated. 

“43 Pine C-Crest Road. H-he, his pupils are dilated and he’s having, um h-he’s having trouble breathing, I don’t know what’s wrong!” At that moment, Connor’s breathing hitched and his face contorted into an expression of pain. Remembering the basic training his mother had given him as young as he could remember, Evan pushed Connor’s shoulder so that he was lying in recovery position on the cold sidewalk. 

“Can you feel his pulse? Is it weak?” The voice said.

Evan reached out and brushed Connor’s greasy and matted hair aside, feeling for a pulse on his neck, trying desperately to find the steady thump that meant Connor was still alive. It was there, but barely. “Y-yes. It’s n-not good.”

“It’s possible that it was a drug overdose. Just sit tight until the paramedics get there, make sure he’s in recovery position and that you stay calm.” Evan could hear the woman on the other line typing away as she spoke. “If his breathing gets significantly worse, you should administer CPR, but only if trained to do so. Understand?”

Evan took a shaky breath. “G-got it.”

“The paramedics should arrive shortly.” With that, the call ended and Evan was left alone in the cold with the only noise being the wind in the trees and Connor’s labored breathing. 

There was nothing left to do except listen and make sure that Connor’s breathing stayed stable. When a distinct sound that Evan immediately classified as a death rattle became evident, he jumped into action the way his mother had taught him, abandoning any sort of hesitation or worry. Lay Connor on his back, tilt chin up. Listen for ten seconds. No breathing. Evan did what he had been taught: both hands on the center of chest, use body weight to push, do two-inch deep chest compressions at about 100 per minute. 

Evan’s brain shut off once it came time for rescue breaths. It wasn’t gay if you were saving someone’s life, right? Tilt chin up, plug nose, place lips so they create a tight seal. Luckily, it didn’t seem as if Connor was choking. Chest compressions, rescue breaths. Repeat.

After what seemed like hours, Connor’s breathing steadied and Evan rolled him back into recovery position. With his head hitting the ground next to Connor’s, Evan gripped his knees tightly and began to cry.

This was how the EMTs found them, with Evan sobbing quietly enough to hear if Connor’s breathing ever became unsteady again. Once the ambulance pulled into Evan’s street, the only thing he could remember was a bright light and a blanket being wrapped around him as he sat on his own front stoop, listening to the microwave beep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A wap-babaloobop a wop-bam boom! Welcome to chapter 2! Don't really have any info to share other than the obligatory kudos + subscribe as well as please comment I feed off validation 
> 
> (The signs of a drug overdose on painkillers I used in this chapter are real, as well as the steps for CPR. But PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE if you're going to try and learn this consult a professional or at least the internet! It could save a life)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all this ain't my first fanfic rodeo so please leave comments and kudos bc I need validation
> 
> (Song is Video Games by Lana Del Rey)


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